Between Worlds
by Obliviatea
Summary: What if you went to bed one day and woke up in another universe? One that was dangerous, in turmoil, and ancient... with no way out? What if you suddenly remembered having *always* been two separate people - the person back in the real world, and the person you live as in this new one? Which person would you choose to be? Set before Origins... two worlds, two lives, one choice.
1. Chapter 1 (Prologue)

I just didn't think it was possible.

I mean, who wouldn't want to escape this dreary world, right? Who wouldn't want to be free of Earth and all their worldly responsibilities? Who wouldn't want to trade their life in exchange for another, even if that meant surrendering yourself to a universe you never even knew existed? Hell, I'd sure want that. No doubt about it. In fact, I used to pray for that very thing to happen, folded hands and all.

I just… never thought I'd actually get my wish.

Unfortunately, dimension hopping, or whatever you want to call it, hadn't been as much fun as I used to imagine it would be. The traveling part had been especially disorienting, to say the least. One minute I shut my eyes in the real world to go to sleep and the next, I'm surrounded by a maelstrom of sounds and colors, except these sounds and colors were loud and too bright and completely out of this world. And when I say sounds and colors, I literally mean sounds and colors. All at once, a high-pitched keening sound fired off near my head. Loudly, too. I wanted to scream, but there was no air for my lungs. Inhaling felt empty, and yet, still satisfying somehow. I guess I could feel something trickle down my windpipe to fill my insides, but it sure as shit wasn't oxygen. Although, by the time I'd figured that out, the keening sound was gone and instead, I saw a gaseous cloud of purple wander into my field of vision. It looked like a bunch of colored gas particles, each one clustering together to form a medium sized blob of not-air just several inches away from me. I stretched forward, not really feeling my limbs, and saw my pale hand waft through the cloud like smoke. Tendrils of purple enveloped my fingers, and I almost laughed when I realized that it was warm. The sweet, low music of wind chimes seeped into my ears then, and I made a fist inside of the not-air and watched the gaseous cloud fade to the color of cotton-candy… or maybe it had always been this shade of pink and I was just experiencing an uncontrollable sort of mind trip. After all, this couldn't be anything but a dream and dreams were not logical by any standards.

I decided right there and then that this might have been the coolest dream-trance that I had ever had in my life. I was suspended and floating in a sea of impenetrable nothingness, both arms and legs trailing out in front of my body as if I had been sitting down in a giant bean-bag chair that been smushed too much in the middle. Clouds of color and sound continued to ooze and float along this deep chamber of blackness, and all I knew for certain is that I was nowhere and I was everywhere at once. But, if I was nowhere and everywhere at once, then I shouldn't have had this eerie feeling on my skin - the kind that feels like each of your pores were charged with static electricity. The feeling of a cold, wet finger trailing down the back of your neck and spine. The feeling of your heart growing little hummingbird wings, beating so fast that you thought you could fly.

The feeling of being watched.

I tried to wrench free of the invisible ropes binding my arms and legs to the invisible beanbag chair I was sunk in, but I couldn't. Each jerky movement of mine weighed me down as if I were wading through sand, so I soon gave up. Then I shut my eyes, because maybe if I pretended I wasn't really there, I would wake up in my bed at home with a few hours to spare before class and wonder what in the world had provoked this sort of unexplainable dream before drifting off to sleep again. Or maybe I was just full of it and really sort of terrified at this point - so terrified in fact that the soundlessness of my subsequent scream only made me scream harder, because what was the point in a gesture so loud and violent if no one was around to actually hear it? The thought was chilling even to myself. My eyes started to sting with moisture, though in this place I wouldn't be surprised if my tears came out red or black or blue. Panicking, I quickly shut them again. I opened my mouth to scream once more, when suddenly, a steady vibration rocked my core, as if my heart had become a cell phone and it was alerting me to a text message. The sensation was so startling and so different that my jaw immediately snapped shut with an audible sound, teeth against teeth. If the strange vibration in my chest hadn't shocked me out of my fit, then the human sound of my breath catching surely would have, for it was the very first noise I had heard since this dream started. Well, the first normal sound. I pressed my teeth tightly together again and heard the soft grinding sound I was searching for.

This was good then! This was… well, this was familiar, if nothing else. I ground my teeth in a slow and steady pattern while my mind raced to catch up with this new information. Maybe I was finally waking up? Maybe this dreadful and otherworldly place would finally dissolve into a dark crevice of my memory, and I'd wake up from this nightmare and finally be grateful to go to school for once. Ugh. My heart was vibrating again and the pulse of its rhythm was so frantic that if I unclenched my teeth now, they would surely break.

Vibratevibratevibratevibrate. Pause. Vibratevibratevibratevibrate.

How long had I been here anyway? An hour? Two? More? It felt likes years had passed by the time the incessant vibrating had stopped. Did I dare open my eyes and discover what lay before me now, though I still hung suspended in the air like a puppet? I debated on this for several minutes, and then the vibrating started up again. Except… faster. The vibrations pummeled my insides, beginning from my chest until tremors rocked my lifeless extremities in a rag doll fashion. My body was warming up from each harsh movement, and I kept my jaw locked for fear that I would bite my tongue off. My dark hair stuck to the clammy sweat on my neck as this continued, and I waited patiently, if fearfully, as the vibrations got faster and faster and increasingly violent.

After one more minute of this, I had reached my end. I wanted to go home! I wanted all of this to stop! I wanted to sleep in my bed and rise to the sound of my mother crashing around in the kitchen! I wanted to see the faces of my best friends, each one solid and beautiful and wholly real! I'd had enough of this dream or trance or state or whatever this was! I was TIRED! I was SCARED! I was —

"Solana?"

NOT Solana! I was —

"Solana, wake up. Solana! Come on!"

Whose voice was this all around me? Make it stop. Make it STOP!

"Solana!"

"NO!"

Something solid and steady gripped my shoulders and I flinched, twisting away from the unwanted contact.

"Solana, it's me, dammit! Open your eyes!"

So, I did. They flew open at once and hovering before me was a tan blob, each side of its surface decorated with dark ornaments. It wasn't until fresh tears spilled over my cheeks that I realized I was looking at a face, the dark eyebrows knitting together to form a dent just above his nose.

"Who are you?"

I asked this question without thinking, without even knowing where I was. It was dark, that I could tell. If I squinted, I thought I could make out the rest of this figure's face. His features were average and handsome, and black bangs tumbled down his temples in a disarray. This man looked as tired as I felt, and the pressure gripping my shoulders then released me. I realized that he had been the one restraining me, and if I had not been so disoriented, I think I might have tried to move away from him.

"Are you all right?"

A pang of familiarity snapped me out of my convoluted thoughts, and I peered up at him again. I knew this man and his voice, though I didn't know what he was doing in my house so late at night…

"Jowan?" Was that his name? "What's happening?" The pitiful whisper of my voice sounded fragile even to me.

The man called Jowan sighed deeply and extended a hand. It occurred to me that he was perched close to where I lay on my bed's mattress. I took it, knowing that I was safe, and allowed him to pull me up beside him.

"You were having another nightmare, I think. A big one this time. You were yelling."

Of course. The nightmares had been visiting me frequently this week, it seemed. "Sorry. Did any templars come?" I asked in a sleepy voice. At once, the words confused me. What was I saying? Nightmares? Templars? I stiffened, and Jowan slowly shook his head.

"You're lucky. I got to you before your screams could wake up the entire tower," he mumbled lazily. "This one sounded worse than the others — " But I couldn't hear him anymore. What was going on? Where was I?

"Jowan," I urgently pressed, completely cutting him off from his lecture about who I should and should not talk to whilst in the Fade or whatever that meant, "I need to ask you some things and I need you to answer me as concise and as straight forward as you can. Are you able to do that?" Jowan hesitated for just a second and then swallowed in determination. He nodded.

"Thank you." Inhaling shakily, I pushed away all the damp hair still matted to my face and forehead. My curls were long and tangled, and I didn't want to bother with them too much so I impatiently shoved them all behind my shoulders. "Firstly, where are we?"

Jowan frowned. "The Circle Tower."

I tried to hide my alarm at the notion of waking up anywhere else besides my home in Massachusetts. "What city are we currently in?"

"We're… not. The Tower is settled on Lake Calenhad."

My heart thumped painfully at his words. Not in Massachusetts, then. Somewhere in the United States, perhaps?

"What country is this and what is the date, Jowan?"

"What happened in your dream, Solana?" he blurted out forcefully. "Did you engage with a spirit of some sort or —"

"Jowan, please!"

He scowled at me but otherwise swallowed the rest of his words in silent surrender. "This is Fereldan, where we've lived all our lives in glorious splendor… minus the glorious part. The date is 9:31 in the Dragon Age, and yesterday was the first day of spring time, thank the Maker for that." And then Jowan was suddenly leaning towards me with a fierce look in his onyx eyes. "What's wrong, Solana? Please… you can tell me. If it was a spirit, then I could help you! Whatever it was, we cannot let the templars find out, of course. There's no telling what they'd do if they found anything worth investigating."

"I…" But what could I even say? What help could I take from this man who I knew and didn't know at the same time? Even just looking at him was perplexing… I thought I'd recognized his unkempt hair, the slight curve of his thin lips. But upon further inspection, he only seemed more and more alien to me. I could feel myself growing colder with each passing moment.

And his words. They didn't make any sense at all! Or did they? I swore I could remember laying upon this stiff mattress before. I seemed to sink into its shape as if I already had…

No. The thought was too ridiculous and too terrible to even entertain.

Drawing my knees upwards, I sluggishly proceeded to kick off the blankets tucking me in as I crawled towards the opposite edge of the bed, away from Jowan. It was all I could to do get to my feet, for exhaustion still tore at my limbs and they almost felt too tired to lift. Once I was stable, I tried not to think about the long, dark robe I was dressed in or how it must have gotten there. As far as I knew, I didn't own anything of the sort, so I internally silenced those questions while my eyes readjusted to the dark room around me.

It was a bedroom, more or less, its walls composed of what appeared to be stone. The air was slightly stale but comfortable enough. A few yards ahead of me was what I assumed to be the doorway, its foreign interior arching high above the height of the average person. A generic dresser rested to the left of the doorway and was adjacent to a full length mirror, decorated with intricate patterns of silver and brass along the sides. To the right of the doorway was a wall that had been hollowed out and filled with stacks of books, each spine gleaming and proud and strong. Besides a water basin, that concluded the list of personal items, albeit few. Wait. Was this… my room?

"Jowan?" I called emotionlessly. To be honest, I still didn't know how I knew this man's name… just that I did. It was eerie, and I wrapped both arms around myself, pressing my fingertips into the crevices of each rib. I was vaguely aware of that resulting in a dull ache spread across my torso, meaning that this probably wasn't a dream at all. If I could feel pain, then…

Jowan interrupted me from my silent revelation. He'd somehow walked around the perimeter of the bed frame without me noticing and was now staring unabashedly into my face not a foot away from where I stood. I gazed back into his puzzled expression and swallowed, feeling a blank numbness seep into the corners of my bones. It felt heavy.

"I don't feel so well, Jowan. I… think I need to take a walk or something." Yeah, a long, long walk, far away from this place…

Jowan's wary eyes swept over me, and I could see him internally deliberating with himself if he should accompany me or not. I shook my head at him and ignored his resulting frown, all the while still hugging myself.

"I'll be okay," I lied, "I'm just disoriented from my nightmare is all. You were right… it was a bad one and… I'm just really tired, Jowan. I'll be back in a few minutes and then head straight to bed again. You should, too."

If I had any energy reserved, I might have flinched when Jowan reached out and softly clapped his hand upon my shoulder. Instead, I felt the jolt rack my hollow self and struggled to remain upright. Jowan opened his mouth to say something but bit his lip then, and I tried giving him a half-hearted smile despite not really feeling my face anyway.

"Please get some sleep," I mumbled while shuffling my feet closer to the room's doorway. "And thank you for checking up on me tonight. I'll see you in the morning." But why did I say that? What was in the morning and why did I have a feeling like I've said that before in a million different instances?

The doorknob was metal and cold to the touch, and I yanked it open with as much force as I could reckon from this extraordinarily horrific night. Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, I left a shell-shocked Jowan far behind and tried not to think about where I was headed because the thought of getting lost in this hard and stone tower was nothing in comparison to the realization that in this place, I might not be headed for anywhere at all.


	2. Chapter 2 (Prologue Continued)

I suppose I'd been wandering for hours now. I could tell, because the Tower's walls were home to many windows, every other one separated by another that was stained glass. Awhile ago, all I could see through the pretty panes was my own reflection in the hallway - it was still night time. Now, I could detect just the slightest warming of color outside, causing the blackness of the evening to fade into a dark blue. Personally, I'd _rather_ the dark. When the sun finally came up in this wretched place, I knew I'd peer into a window then only to see nothing of familiarity to me. If Jowan was correct, I'd see the cerulean waters of a giant lake because, according to him, this was where we were - where we both had lived all our lives.

Ridiculous.

And thus, my wandering continued. The Tower, whatever it was called, seemed completely and utterly asleep. It appeared to consist of several different levels, each level featuring one main hallway with many other rooms branching off from it. I had already traversed through three of these hallways in the same futile, zombie-like gait I knew was way too slow for such a strange place. After all, shouldn't I try to escape? Assuming that I had been drugged and kidnapped, because what _else_ could have happened to me… shouldn't that resonate with my most primal instinct to stay alive? And maybe the correct answer was '_yes, yes, yes, get your stolen butt to the nearest exist IMMEDIATELY'_, but to be honest, I was just too tired for that. This wasn't some regular fatigue that all humans suffered from either, this felt like I had run a marathon or two in addition to hiking the Alps, swimming the English Channel, binge-watching a TV show on Netflix for twelve hours, drowning somewhere in the ocean and _then_ coming back to life before spending a few hundred years haunting the souls of the living… all on no sleep. And without caffeine, too. No… this was the pace of the dead, except that somehow I was still miraculously alive, _despite_ being knocked out and dragged to the most foreign corner of the Earth by some creepy stranger who probably had a fixation on sleeping women. After all, I _had_ been abducted while I was still in my bed at home, right?

Ah, home. Where _was_ my home? Sighing long and deep, I pushed past yet another door made entirely of wood and stumbled sleepily into an antechamber of some sort. Through the dim light of several strategically placed torches, I could tell that not much was in here, save for a few crates and miscellaneous junk tucked away in the corners of the room. Across from where I stood was the entrance to another stairway, I presumed, due to the fact that it looked identical to the ones I'd already come across. I was two levels down from where I left Jowan, and now I was starting to wish he _had_ accompanied me on my little trek, for I was tired and cold and very much afraid. Even if my body did not have the energy to feel the current danger that I was in, my mind did. Every shadow cast by the old torches looked ominous to me, and I fiddled with the soft belt of my robe if only to keep myself occupied. If nothing else in this situation was strange, this robe I now wore definitely _was_. The fabric was a dark color, that I could tell in the limited light provided to me. The sleeves came down to my wrists and angled off at a slant, and the hem just skirted the tops of my feet, which were bare except for socks. At the waist, a belt made of dark cord cinched across my hips, like a rope, only more fashionable. The entire ensemble was bizarre, sure, but the most frightening thing about it was that this robe fit my body perfectly. In fact, it was as if it had been _made_ for me. Every part of it clung to my frame in the right places: my arms, my shoulders, my hips… they all felt snugly and flawlessly outfitted.

But… how?

How?

HOW?

I froze when the door opened. Specially, the door across from me - the one I'd been idly staring at for minutes now. Every muscle I had locked in place, though at this point, I was almost relieved. If it _was_ my kidnapper, maybe he would just kill me now and spare me whatever torture had originally been planned out. Maybe I would beg for this and he would be generous, and then when I died in _this_ place, I would wake up back in Massachusetts!

_Or_, a small voice in the back of my head replied,_ you would just be dead_.

I shivered, and came face-to-face with a bearded old man as he stepped out of the shrouded doorway and into the antechamber.

….

I almost screamed when the man's eyes focused on me. Heavy bags plagued the areas underneath and I held as still as I could while they scanned me over, furrowing slightly as they came to rest upon my face.

"Solana, girl, what in the _Maker's_ name are you doing up so late?"

Just like with Jowan, a wave of involuntary recognition washed over me. I felt that somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew this man's name… though that couldn't be possible. It just _couldn't_ be! Who _were_ these people? What did they want from me? _Me_, a twenty year old female?

He called my name again - the _wrong_ one, and I whimpered, suddenly unable to hold myself up any second longer. My knees buckled long before I was aware of hitting the ground, cold and stone ground against fleshy cheek. Had I fallen forwards?

"Solana!"

It sounded as if the old man moved faster than he looked capable of doing. He was next to me at once and I felt his warm hands on my back and hair, hesitant and unsure.

"What's wrong, girl? What's happened to you?" he muttered in his gravelly voice that I both remembered and didn't.

I felt unbearably cold as the man's fingers been pulling the scattered locks of my hair away from my face. "I don't know," I choked out, abruptly conscious that I was crying. A ripple of pain seized my chest at the realization of how true my words were… I _didn't_ know what happened to me, though it seemed no one else did either. The pain gripped my heart again and squeezed. A low whimper escaped my lips, but I didn't protest his strong hands rolling me over onto my back. It registered to me that he was much stronger than I first gave him credit for. One of his palms cradled my head as it touched upon the hard floor.

"Are you hurt?" he asked gruffly. I stared up at his wrinkled face and felt more tears slide down my temples where they must have disappeared into my hair. He looked _kind_, and that seemed more unbearable than the alternative because it didn't make any sense! The pain and heartache in my body was like fire now, and I was being consumed by its demanding and invisible tendrils. '_Where are you?' _it interrogated. '_Where are you? Who are you? What are you? Who is this man? Who is Jowan? Who is this one? Why do they want you? Were you kidnapped? Were you taken? For what? By whom? Why? What about your mother? Your friends? Your school work? Your job? Your future?_

I wanted to shout out that I had no idea, that I truly and honestly didn't know the answers to any of these questions and that it was also pointless to keep asking. But, still, the fire swirled relentlessly inside me and attacked the cool deadness of my mind, each inaudible question like a blade against my skin.

At some point, I think the old man repeated his question for me again. I met his alarmed gaze and was vaguely aware of his palms gliding over the space above me. Then, a brilliant white light shot out from each hand and illuminated the room, blinding me at once and forcing me to shut my eyes. The light was warm and comforting, but it was just one more thing I was unprepared for in this strange place. One thing too many. I convulsed violently, feeling the fire in my body rise up and explode out of me. It was excruciating and I flinched away from it - flinched away from the old man… flinched away from _everything_. I raised my forearms in self-defense from it all, shielding my tear-streaked face even as I heard both of our gasps sound off like gunshots in the cold, ignited antechamber.

And then, all at once… clarity.

I remembered.

….

_I was in the most beautiful place imaginable. That, I knew. I lay in a field of grass and flowers, the sky above a perfect, cloudless blue. Snow covered mountains trapped me in from three sides, though their massive silhouettes did not quite reach me. The sun was high and warm, and a breeze smelling of roses danced all around my nostrils. My practice had paid off and I was awake in my own lucid dream, totally and blissfully aware of the serenity surrounding me._

_Experimenting with lucid dreaming had been time consuming, but rewarding. For now, I planned to just rest here, or at least, until I woke up for real in my bed. It was currently Sunday night and I had class in the morning, I think. How annoying was that? But right now, class was the last thing I wanted to think about. I had finally been successful, and now, paradise awaited for me. Happily closing my eyes, I sighed easily, breathing in the rich floral smell of the summer afternoon._

_"What is your name?" _

_The voice was gentle, but still unexpected. It was also like honey, filling my ears with its sweetness. "Who are you?" I called out to the open air. I asked this with a mild level of curiosity, though I knew well enough that to completely control a lucid dream meant time and practice - more than the amount I had already invested. The voice I'd heard was probably a manifestation of some other part of my mind - one that was not conscious._

_"What is your name?" the voice pressed._

_I chewed on the inside of my cheek, deliberating for a minute. "Olivia," I answered. _

_"Would you stay here forever, Olivia?"_

_"Yes."_

_It probably should have scared me that the voice wasn't mine or recognizable… but it didn't. I was safe in my own little dream-world. I could feel that the voice meant me no harm. It was almost a promise of sorts, and it settled easily into my bones. I smiled. "Because. I'm happy here. It feels impossible to be sad in this place, so why would I go back if I didn't have to?"_

_I realized the bodiless voice to be a man's the next time it spoke. It was a handsome baritone and was like an orchestra of musicians playing in my ears. "You are sad often." This was not a question._

_For the first time since this dream began, I felt like frowning. "Why did you come here?" _

_"To ask for help."_

_Weird. My own subconscious needs my help? Okay, less weird. After all, everybody knew that dreams helped resolve real life problems._

_"With what?" I wondered aloud. "How do you know that my help is what you need anyway?"_

_The voice was strong and sure in his reply. "You could save them."_

_"Them? Who's them? Save them how?" And why does my subconscious insist on being so cryptic?_

_"Far off in another land is where my people reside. They squander away their lives and do not realize the terrible danger they are in. Be assured that I have seen what will come to pass: a dreaded plague, dark and twisting… annihilating everything within its reach. Nothing and no one will survive. They need a savior! They need you! Only you can be this for them."_

_Cryptic _and_ narcissistic. What else would my subconscious turn out to be?_

_"I am not your subconscious."_

_"But this is a dream, isn't it?" I wasn't answered but even I could feel the truth of my own question. This was only a dream and my subconscious was being a pain. Annoyance pricked at my insides and I forced myself upright, the long strands of grass tickling my skin all the while. Upon opening my eyes I saw that the sky had changed dramatically - no longer a royal blue but purple, with the sun low and casting impossibly long shadows over the mountains it sank near. Flecks of pink and gold were painted over the purple horizon, sometimes mixing in with bright orange streaks that fanned out just above each mountain peak, like flower petals. It was the most stunning sunset, and I couldn't help but gasp loudly._

_"Did you do this?" I asked the voice. I sure didn't. Every time I dreamed of this place, it remained the same mid-afternoon summer day it always was, no matter how much time I seemed to spend here._

_"I am _not_ your subconscious," was all it said._

_I shivered in wonder but quickly shook off the feeling. "Then… what are you?"_

_"Desperately in need of your help." At once, the sky turned black and flashes of red lightning seared through the air like electric swords. The grassy plains beneath my body boiled, and I jumped up with a cry in my throat as I watched harsh roots and barren soil take its place. What was happening? My beautiful paradise was fading fast and becoming replaced with what resembled a battlefield!_

_"Stop this," I plead out loud to the voice. "Why are you doing this?"_

_Men appeared then. Armies and armies of men and horrible looking monsters clad in metal armor, one group on either side of me. Each man held a metal sword in their hand, but the monsters with twisted features were spattered with blood across their hands and faces. They were phantoms, not real… but I couldn't help but shudder in place as I watched the two armies run towards each other and collide in a deafening, ear-splitting noise while I remained in the center of their vicious fighting all the while. It was horrible. I felt like being sick._

_"Why?" I asked again. I felt the rush of warm air sting my cheek as an arrow sailed past my face before sinking itself into the chest of a soldier right behind me. As he fell to his knees, I saw that he was young, probably my age, and I watched him claw at his wound like it was on fire. "Help him, help him… oh my god help him!" I went to shout, but my words were lost amidst the rest of the hideous and terrible sounds of war. I started crying then. "Why won't you help him? Make this stop! Please make this stop!"_

_"You could make this stop," the kind voice answered inside my head. "If you agreed to help me, that is. You could change everything. Would you save all these people if you could, _knowing_ that you could?"_

_What kind of a question was that? Who wouldn't do everything in their power to make sure something like this wouldn't happen? It took me a moment to register that I was already on my knees, cowering on the toxic ground and stained with the blood of those who were dying around me. A sob racked my throat and it took me a second to answer, but when I did, I nodded and fixed my hands over my ears to block everything else out. "Yes, yes, yes - anything to make this go away! Anything! Just _please_ make it stop."_

_And like that… everything vanished._

_I was alone._

_"Thank you," I whispered… to… who? Who was there? Who could possibly have done that?_

_"I protect the place where I dwell. I cannot leave it," the voice responded soothingly. "That is why it must be _you_ who saves my people. If you accept, you will endure many trials and hardships and pain. Yet, if you succeed in saving them, I will be indebted to you. You would have but to ask for any one thing, and I would give it willingly."_

_I was still cowering on my knees, but I didn't try to move. If anything, I sunk lower into the not-real ground, trying to hide myself. "You're not… this isn't a dream, is it?" My tone was colorless._

_"No. I am not your subconscious."_

_"And… you want me… to help you? Help you do what?" I demanded feebly, my face still shielded from view. "I don't understand anything!"_

_The voice sighed tiredly. It was as if its very breath caressed me. I was suddenly lifted onto my feet and filled with such warmth that I could not bear to cringe away from letting it sustain me. I heard the voice speak once more. "What I ask of you will take a great deal of faith to accomplish. You may not always know where you are going or what you are supposed to do. I would not force any of this upon you, even to save their lives. If you decline, you will wake in your own bed and remember none of this. If you were to accept, however, then know that I will guide you through everything. You would never be alone in this journey."_

_I frowned. "So… you're not going to tell me what I have to do stop… whatever it was that I saw? I'll just be walking around blind? Why?"_

_"One thing at a time, little one. You do not need to know everything at once. The knowledge would only overwhelm you. For now, continue to live your life as you would and let it take you to wherever I guide. Is this more acceptable to you?"_

_I suppose it was. But still… This was all so confusing…_

_And then I had a question. "Will I remember this when I wake up?"_

_The voice paused shortly. "No. After all, you are still in your dreaming state. You will have to take great measures to ensure that you somehow retrieve this memory."_

_"Why? Is this memory important?"_

_"Traveling in this manner is taxing on the mind. You may find yourself disoriented and confused for a short time. You will need to remember this moment and this conversation if you are to regain any purpose in your course."_

_I watched thoughtfully as a shooting star then raced across the sky of my dream-world, leaving behind a trail of amazing light in its path, highlighting the empty waste that was the remains of this horrific battlefield. "I can just… go back to my normal life?"_

_"Yes. The events that you will face will happen in time - not all at once. I am merely setting you on a different path in life, not altering or shaping it. That is for you to do on your own. Only you control your fate."_

_After all of this… well, the last thing I wanted to do was stay here any longer. I nodded wordlessly, accepting the terms of these conditions, accepting… whatever it was from whoever it was. I was done for now._

_"I am pleased by your answer."_

_Of course you are. An image of the young soldier clawing at the arrow protruding from his body snaked its way into my brain then, and I fought back the urge to vomit. "What do I do when I wake up?"_

_"That is simple," the honey voice replied. "Live your life. Live it as you normally would. It will still be there and yours when you awake."_

_"And… when do I wake up?"_

_I grimaced slightly as a supernova explode in the sky above me._

_"Soon."_

_"When?"_

_"Now."_

_…._

"… Maker's BREATH!" I cursed. Gasping heavily, I felt both of my eyes snap open at once. What was happening? Ow! Was something burning my wrist? Was it still the fire in me?

"Quick! She's waking up!" a harsh voice exclaimed.

In a fit of shock I bolted upright, nearly smacking my face into the old man's head which had presumably been lowered to study me. At once I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal, and I didn't even have to look up to know that those were the templars unsheathing their swords. Master Irving - that been the old man's name, looked startled and wary as both of his gray eyebrows arched high upon his forehead. I felt absolutely wild and crazed and if he hadn't reached out to steady my wavering shoulders with both hands, I would have fallen back onto the ground. I was woozy… my head spun with a dizzying amount of information, almost as if it was updating, and I tasted bile in my mouth as light trembles began to rock my muscles.

"Is it still her?" the same templar asked, "Or has she been possessed?" His voice was hard and cold and unfortunately recognizable. I resisted the urge to vomit on the floor in his direction. Maybe _that_ would finally teach him some manners.

But Irving interrupted my grand gesture with his reply. "Give the girl a moment, Gideon. Maker knows what she's just endured."

Warmth from Irving's voice helped still the tremors, though I felt weakened regardless. If I had to guess at what my face looked like, it was no wonder the templars around me were so on edge. They were probably on guard duty when a surge of mana alerted them to our presence - my accidental doing. That would make sense. When they arrived… well, let's just say that a mage emerging from unconsciousness in a disoriented state was never a good thing in the Circles.

I understood that now.

"I'm all right," I muttered while unsteadily rising to my feet. Irving retracted his hands and I flashed him a quick smile before turning to face the three templars on my other side. Another wave of heat flushed my insides as I caught the sight of bronze eyes and curly hair, but his gaze mysteriously dropped before I could meet it with my own. _Cullen_. Oh no. _He_ was here.

"Care to tell us what happened, miss?" Gideon asked. It seemed as if he was to be the spokesperson for the group - the group consisting of Cullen and the other templar I knew as Maxwell. Both remained silent behind Gideon and I frowned. They were good men - it was a shame that they couldn't have come here alone. I might have told _them_ the truth.

Smoothing my robes down, I avoided eye contact with the demanding templar and attempted to keep my voice as even as possible for fear of him running me through with the sword he clutched so tightly. I'd already had one hell of a night, the last thing I wanted now was to be unfairly impaled and left to die on any other surface than a warm bed.

"It was another one of my nightmares," I stated simply. Even the templars who protected this Tower could not refuse the validity of such a claim - they've been accustomed to hearing me scream at night for years now and had long given up any such suspicion that I was possessed and taken over by a demon. Even now, I saw the wariness instantly dissolve on all three faces, though Gideon was more stubborn than the rest. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"And why did you come here, to _this_ room? Why did you attack Irving?"

Attack Irving? What?

"She didn't _attack_ me," Master Irving snapped back. I fought to keep the grin off my face and fought harder still when I saw Cullen's mouth twist upwards. We'd all lost it with Gideon in one instance or another - Irving was one of the few left in the Circle who _hadn't _accosted the man. "It was _my_ fault. I startled her in the darkness and she fainted in a moment of severe apprehension."

But Gideon wasn't buying it. "And the spell she sent at you?" He then pointed to a scorch mark in the direction where Irving had previously faced before I collapsed. "Are you telling me that that isn't what I think it is?"

Oops.

I opened my mouth to protest his insane accusation - as if I would _ever_ intentionally hurt my own mentor, but Irving beat me to it once again. "She was defending herself! Young man, if you have a sincere complaint against this mage then by all means, express yourself. But _please_ refrain from throwing around wild accusations that have no standing or evidence aside from your own personal and delirious convictions."

I had never seen Irving be this vehement before - especially not to a templar. It looked like the others were in agreement with my thoughts as well. Maxwell was gaping wordlessly while Cullen just looked pale. Gideon on the other hand merely sneered, and I stifled a shudder as his black eyes settled angrily on my face. He swept them over me in an arrogant manner before sheathing his sword. It took me a moment to notice that the other templars already had.

"All right then, Master Irving," Gideon snarled. "Here's a _complaint_ for you: this mage is too emotionally unstable for her own good. She's been having this nightmare for years, and still, every winter it's the same! All this screaming and yelling at night… If she can't even maintain control over her own silly dreams then what is the point in allowing her to continue to practice magic?" I froze at the implication in his words. What was he saying what I think he was? Even more shocking was the warning hand Cullen then placed on Gideon's shoulder, that is, before Gideon coldly shook it off. "Do you want to be responsible for the deaths of innocent templars and mages when she turns into an abomination?"

"Solana is one of the most talented mages in the Tower, son. You know that as well as I. Actually, Gideon, you would do well to show some _respect_ for that talent. Mage or not, she is one of the few here who actually shows some promise." I almost blushed at the compliment but didn't really have the energy for such a response.

Gideon swallowed hard but said nothing more. Lucky for _him_.

"Solana, girl," Irving called tiredly. My feet shuffled over to him of their own accord and I did nothing to disguise the sluggish and unsightly movement they made. I was beyond exhausted.

"Let's get you back to your room," he said to me. "Do you think you can sleep now?" I nodded, feeling my eyelids droop in agreement with my thoughts. Irving smirked. "Good. Boys, I trust you'll all have a less exciting rest of the night. Yes?""

Maxwell was quick to raise his eyebrows in approval. "Let's hope so. Gideon?" And then he was gone, striding out of the room with Cullen on his heels. I tried not to think about how the shy boy shot me one last look before turning - a look full of blazing concern and softness. I probably wasn't even meant to see it but I also couldn't help the fact that my eyes were naturally drawn towards him by instinct. By the time they were gone, Gideon was still standing there, his shoulders stiff and relentless as usual. Master Irving was trying to turn me away now, towards the door that would lead back down the man hall and up to the higher levels, but I paused momentarily to say something.

"Gideon… I really am okay. Just tired. There's no danger here, I promise you." Maybe _that_ would appease his mind.

As usual though, my optimism was proven to be wrong. "There better not be, miss. That's all I have to say for now." With that, Gideon spun and swiftly exited the room.

"Why is he always so furious at life?" I muttered as soon as he was out of earshot. Master Irving shrugged once, a careless gesture, and led me out of the dismal antechamber as well.

"It's wrong of him," I continued, not really caring about who overheard at this point - the Tower's walls carried sound like nobody's business. "I've never done anything to deserve that sort of treatment from _any_ templar in here." If Irving heard me, which he _should_ have, he didn't bother to acknowledge it.

I suppose I was grumbling for a long time, throughout two or three more levels, but Irving never said a word until we arrived outside my bedroom door. There was no mistaking it now - the high archway, the single bed, the mini-library the templars allowed me to stock… this was _my_ room. Just like it had always been.

Master Irving spoke then and I tried not to flinch away from the gentle contempt in his all-knowing voice. "Are you ever going to tell me what _really_ happened tonight or am I just better off not knowing?"

I suppressed a yawn, though after all that had happened, I didn't know how it was possible for me to be this indifferent about my situation right now. "Maybe in the morning. But don't worry about it too much Master Irving, you wouldn't believe me even if I _did_ tell you."

"Hmph. Somehow, I know you're telling the truth. Fine. Get some sleep, girl; you have a long lesson tomorrow and I won't tolerate you falling asleep on me. _Again_." Irving smiled slightly and touched my arm before retreating back the way he came.

"Yeah, yeah," I said under my breath. As I strolled through, the door closed behind me with a gentle _click_ and I hurriedly made my way over to the bed, refusing to think of anything other than how soft the pillow on my cheek would be. There was absolutely to be no thinking about anything tonight. There was no thinking about Gideon or Irving or my recurring nightmare or the apology I probably owed Jowan for scaring him - there was _definitely _no thinking about Cullen's eyes or the way he looked at me when he thought no one else could see. Least of all, however, there was zero thinking about the Maker and how he had _personally_ singled me out through what I assumed to be his version of divine intervention. Nope. All of that was to come in the morning.

In fact - tonight, I didn't even care to check what I looked like in my mirror, like I normally did before bed-time. I avoided my ornate mirror at all costs and hastily climbed onto the heavenly wonderland that was my mattress. What I would see back would be too disturbing to me right now, and after all, a human mind can only take so much shock before it shatters completely. I personally had no plans to shatter tonight. At least, not before a few more hours of much needed sleep.

I decided that in the morning is when I would face the mirror again. In the morning is when I would stand and think before the reflective glass and see a girl peering back at me - a girl with brown hair, green eyes, and enough memory to recall the last twenty years of her life in Fereldan's Circle, where she had undoubtedly been raised since childhood.

It was just like Jowan had said - the Fereldan Circle, where I have lived out my _entire_ life.

At least, the second one.


End file.
